Hear Evil, Speak Evil, See Evil
by ZeAwesomeBrit
Summary: When clock-maker apprentice Arthur Kirkland goes into work that day, he doesn't expect to question his life decisions. He doesn't expect to meet the oddest group of people he'd ever seen, and he most certainly doesn't expect to nearly die because of his dead mother. Go figure. Fantasy!AU; Arthur-centric; Gen; Rating may change.


The sunlight was streaming through the open window, bathing my face in a warmth I haven't felt for quite a while. Leaning against the windowpane, I found myself melting into the light, watching as the town woke. Giggling children were beginning to filter into the street, no doubt excited about the rare warm weather, while adults more slowly made their way out of their houses. The only carriage in the town, pulled by two glossy brown horses, rolled past, doubtless on its way to the town's neighbor to trade.

Nubei, aptly named for its consistently cloudy and damp weather, was a small village just off the coast of Ventus. Nestled by the edge of the ocean, it's made mostly up of farmers and merchants, although we get the occasional pirate or two(the hazard of living by the open sea, I suppose). A sunny day was a rare occurrence, and definitely warranted some celebrating. It was a shame I couldn't enjoy it more...

Sighing softly to myself, I sat upright and straightened my clothes. They weren't anything too remarkable - just a white long-sleeved tunic and dark pants - but they were comfortable. Anything else would be nothing short of impractical, especially for someone as poor as myself.

I sighed, thoughts of my work dampening my mood. I usually didn't mind it, but it was so lovely today... I really would like to enjoy it. I shook my head, and then began to gather up my things.

I didn't have much to grab - just a poorly-made lunch and favored green cloak - so I sat to put my boots on. The place I lived in was very small- there were only four rooms in the entire house, that being the kitchen, bathroom, a little bedroom, and living room. Since my younger brother monopolized the bedroom, my bed was situated in the corner of the living room. It was a little cramped, but I didn't mind too much, since I never spent too much time there, anyway.

Our house was right smack in the middle of town, which was often more trouble than it was worth. I often wished that we had stayed in our cottage in the woods, but Mum had wanted a change of pace. I knew she had planned for me to make a couple of friends, but I was never popular, nor did I want to be, so I'd stayed a loner all through childhood. Not that much had changed now.

The clock chimed, drawing me from my thoughts. Looking at the time, I uttered a soft curse. It was already eight- I'd need to leave soon if I were to arrive to work on time.

"Peter!" I called, a little frantic now, as I finished lacing up my boots. I waited for a minute or two, and when there was no sound forthcoming, I scowled. I didn't have time for that child's games! Ugh, what to do... I had to go, and the youngest Kirkland was doing nothing to help. Which meant...

I sighed sadly. I had to use _it._

I had to use _The Threat._

I took a deep breath. Steeled myself. Then-

"Peter Britannia Kirkland, If you do not get your arse in here this instant, _I am making breakfast!_ " The words had barely left my mouth before I heard a loud _thump,_ and then a flurry of movement as Peter scrambled to the door. There was a moment of silence-

" _Wait_!"

-followed by the most terrified cry I'd ever heard, which was accompanied by the crash of a door as Peter burst into the living room, eyes wide and panicked. I frowned.

"My cooking's not _that_ bad, is it?" I muttered, hurt even as I acknowledged the true unholiness that was my cooking. Shaking the thought away, I pushed myself to my feet once more.

Peter was small, even for an eleven-year-old. His hair was, much like my own, a tousled mess of blonde that seemed to have a mind of its own. He had the typical Kirkland brows, thick and unforgiving, that was fortunately eased by the wide earnestness of his youthful face. He was pale and thin, with just the barest of baby fat rounding his cheeks,and had a light smattering of freckles across his nose. His eyes were a cloudy blue-grey, as opposed to my own green ones- something he inherited from his mother, no doubt.

"Good morning, Peter," I greeted lightly, though there was the barest twinge of annoyance in my voice. I was still miffed about his response to my breakfast. "Straighten out your shirt, will you? You aren't a barbarian, despite what you want me to believe." The eleven-year old, having finally caught his breath, mustered a small scowl.

"Don't tell me what to do, jerk-face," he returned snottily, although he did fix his shirt nonetheless. I rolled my eyes, irritated, but made no further comment on the matter.

"Anyway, I've got to leave for work. I might be late back, so if you need anything, just ask Mr. Berwald and Tino." The only people I trusted not to neglect or outright stone my brother, Tino and Berwald were old acquaintances of my mother. They weren't married, but they might as well be, and while I didn't know them myself very well, Peter had taken quite a shine to them.

For some reason, the feeling was mutual.

Peter, looking thoroughly put-out, grunted. I knew he hated how much I was away from home - I did, too - but not many shops would hire a Kirkland brat, and even if I was over-worked, we needed the money. I sighed, and then reached to ruffle my younger brother's hair. "Look," I tried to placate him as he glowered back up at me, "we'll move as soon as we can, Pete. I've already got a pretty good savings started, so you'll only have to put up with it for a while."

The kid looked a little dubious, but huffed in what I hoped to be the affirmative anyway.

The clock chimed, conveying that it was a quarter past eight, and I cursed violently. Right, work, leaving, _now._ I grabbed my cloak, flew to the door, and opened it, only to pause. I looked back at Peter, standing in the living room by himself, looking at his socked toes.

 _I love you,_ I thought. "Don't forget your homework," I said.

And with those profound words of wisdom, I left.

* * *

 **And that's the Prologue of Hear Evil, Speak Evil, See Evil.**

 **This is a fun little project I thought might be entertaining to do. This is my first fanfic for this fandom, so any constructive criticism will be lovely. I'm not currently not planning any pairings, but that may change depending on how it goes.**

 **Um, so, yeah! The BTT will appear in the next chapter, hopefully, so... stick around? Maybe?**

 **-shrug-**

 **All rights to Hetalia belong to Hidekaz Humaruya!**


End file.
